


All Over Again

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsheplets, Established Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 23:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11195442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: Even without their memories, John and Rodney find each other.





	All Over Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #074 "forgotten"

He woke to a dimly-lit room and a female voice saying, “Jovan? Jovan, please be still.”

The woman rested a hand on his shoulder as he blinked around at a small, fire-lit room, before he focused on her concerned expression.

“Am I Jovan?” he asked.

Her large brown eyes filled with tears. “Do you not know me, Jovan? They said the sickness would affect your memory, but I had hoped…”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I— Who are you?”

She managed a watery smile. “I am Elianna. I am… we are to be married.”

“Oh.” Jovan tried to sit up and she helped this time, tucking a pillow behind him. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you. Hell, I don’t remember _me_. What happened? How long was I asleep?”

“Almost three full days,” said Elianna. “The healers were not sure you would survive.”

She looked like she was about to cry again, so Jovan caught her hand. “I’m fine,” he said. “Well, okay, I ache all over and I don’t remember who I am, but I feel much better now.”

Elianna squeezed his hand. “You must be hungry. I’ll fetch some soup.”

While Jovan ate, she told him some of the things he couldn’t remember— he was from another village, some distance away, which traded part of its wheat harvest for tava beans from Elianna’s village, the one where they were now. Jovan had been one of the regular traders for his people and had stayed to become engaged to her. His parents had died some years before he began trading with them, and he had no other family that she knew of. When he was well again, Jovan had been offered a place on the village council, which met every afternoon in the single large municipal building.

“Thanks,” Jovan said, handing her the empty bowl. “For the soup, and for the information. And for taking such good care of me, while I was out. But I really am feeling better, and I think I’d like to stretch my legs for a while.”

“But you cannot,” protested Elianna. “You are still weak.”

“I just need some fresh air,” he insisted. “I won’t go far.”

She sighed. “Very well.”

It was late morning in the village, the yellow-orange sun nearly overhead, and it seemed that most of the people were outside, as well. Nothing seemed familiar, however, not the stonework buildings or the people, which he should have remembered from his apparently many earlier visits here, not even the sky, which must have been the same in his home village.

A gaggle of children ran by, kicking a round leather ball, and on the other side of the open square, a man was hauling sacks of tava beans out of a wagon and into a large shed.

“Who is that?” Jovan asked. There were a dozen other people going about their tasks in the morning sunshine, but something about this particular man drew his interest.

Elianna followed his gaze and frowned. “He is called Merrith,” she said, disapproval clear in her voice. “He has not been here long. He does odd work at the blacksmith’s shop, in trade for his food and shelter.” Her frown deepened. “He is the one who brought this sickness to our village.”

“Did he have it, too?” Jovan demanded. “Did he lose his memories, too? I should talk to—”

“You should _rest_ ,” Elianna said, firmly.

Jovan let himself be steered back inside. “Is this your house?” he asked, looking at it more closely this time. 

She shook her head. “This is where our sick or injured are cared for. When you are well, you may come and stay with me.”

“Thank you,” he said, hesitantly. “But I… we don’t really know each other, anymore. I don’t think it would be fair, to either of us, to try and pick up where we left off.”

“I—” Elianna began, then nodded. “Yes, yes, you are right, Jovan. We will simply have to begin our courtship again.”

She smiled, and Jovan did his best to smile back. “Sure.”

*

For the third night in a row, Jovan couldn’t sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he expected to be somewhere else, somewhere distant and familiar, but he could never hold onto the dreams— memories?— long enough to figure out where it was. His dreams were all blue and gray, with disconcerting splashes of red. There were flashes of people whose faces he could never quite see, but who felt familiar. And every time he turned, he expected to find someone there beside him, someone _important_ , but he was always alone.

Jovan scrubbed his hands over his face and got up. Both moons were nearly full, so it was easy to pull on his boots and make his way outside.

Nothing looked familiar at night, either. Once he’d gotten his feet back under him, Jovan had walked from one end of the village to the other, but nothing had rung any bells for him. He’d spoken to every person there, except one, and he hadn’t felt even the slightest bit like he’d ever met any of them before.

The only person he hadn’t talked to was Merrith, and as Jovan closed the door of the sick-house behind him, he could see a light flickering in the shed behind the blacksmith’s shop, where he knew Merrith had been staying. Elianna had warned him to stay away from the man, but wouldn’t say why. The mystery bothered Jovan, and he started across the dark village square.

The shed was half-filled with stacked firewood for the blacksmith’s forge, but the other half contained a rickety cot, a battered table and chairs, and a cluttered desk, where Merrith sat hunched over a pile of papers.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Jovan asked, without quite knowing why.

Merrith looked up, surprised, then scowled. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“I…no,” said Merrith, and Jovan moved a few steps closer, into the lamplight.

Up close, he could see that Merrith’s eyes were a bright, clear blue, not dimmed by the dark circles under them. He had broad, sturdy shoulders and his mouth quirked down, just a little on one side, even with the confused expression on his face.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” Merrith said. “Since I brought the illness that made you lose your memories.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Jovan. “And you lost yours, too. Right?”

“Yes, I did,” said Merrith. “But also, no. Read this.”

Jovan took the scrap of paper that was thrust at him. “ _Operating at an abysmally low level of technical knowledge, combined with…_ What?”

“Nobody else can read it. They all say it’s gibberish, even the old guy who keeps the trading records.”

“His name’s Aldis,” said Jovan. He didn’t know if he’d been good with names before, but he’d been determined to remember everything he could from now on. “And he’s the Tradeskeeper.”

Merrith waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, whatever. The _important_ part is that I – and apparently you – can read a language that nobody else knows. I can’t remember my name or where I come from, but I drew up half a dozen design schematics this afternoon. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” said Jovan. “Elianna says that I’ve been here before, to this village. But nothing seems familiar. Not this place, not these people.” He looked down at the paper he still held. “I read this and I thought it sounded just like you. We’ve barely said a dozen words to each other tonight, but I knew.”

“Maybe we knew each other?” Merrith suggested. “Before.”

“Elianna says we didn’t.”

“I don’t mean to sound paranoid,” said Merrith. “But maybe you shouldn’t believe everything Elianna says.”

“I…” Jovan began, but he’d been thinking the same thing. “There’s no one else who could tell me.”

“That you know of,” Merrith said, pointedly.

“Yeah,” agreed Jovan, absently. There were more papers strewn around the workshop, and a slate board propped against the window. It had numbers on it, an equation, but something about it seemed off. “Hey, do you have a pencil?”

“A what?”

“Whatever you used to write this.”

“Oh.” Merrith hunted around on his desk and came up with a stick of charcoal, then he froze. “Why?”

“Your numbers are off,” said Jovan. He took the charcoal and started writing in the margins.

“Hey!” protested Merrith, but Jovan held out the paper. He scowled, then blinked. “You’re right.”

“Don’t have to sound so surprised,” said Jovan.

“ _No_ ,” said Merrith, waving the paper at him. “Nobody here understands this! Not the symbols, not the math – What is this equation?”

Jovan squinted at the numbers. “Uh… maybe fuel efficiency?”

“Yes!” said Merrith. “I’ve been trying to get the forge to burn longer so I don’t have to stoke it so often. Apparently it’s not designed for the kind of heat I need, and… What?”

“Nothing,” said Jovan, trying to hide his smile. “It just… nothing has felt really familiar since I woke up, but you feel more right than anything else.”

“Better not let your wife hear you say that,” Merrith grumbled.

“She’s my betrothed,” corrected Jovan. “Or she says she is.”

“And you’re not sure you believe her?”

“I don’t know,” Jovan admitted, then said, “It’s late, we should get some sleep.”

“Later,” he said.

Jovan put a hand on his shoulder. “Get some sleep, Merrith.”

The other man looked up at him, a little stunned. “I – okay.”

“See you tomorrow, then,” said Jovan, and when he went back to the sick-house, he fell asleep easily.

*

Other than the still-missing memories, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with Jovan, and he felt increasingly uncomfortable staying in the sick-house. 

“Haven’t they given you a job?” Merrith demanded. “What did you do before?”

Jovan shrugged. “Don’t know. Elianna never said.”

The other man huffed, but didn’t say anything – his distrust of Elianna was well-known and Jovan was starting to agree. 

“And nothing seems familiar, either,” he said.

“Then you’re hired,” said Merrith.

“What?”

“I can’t run this forge all by myself,” he said. “The old blacksmith retired to live with his daughter, and there were some others who did chores, but either they’re worried about losing _their_ memories if they hang around me or I’m just naturally unbearable.”

“Hey,” Jovan protested. “I happen to like you.”

Merrith blinked. “You do?”

“I spend _all_ my time here,” said Jovan. “Of course I like you.”

“I…” said Merrith, then looked away. “I need more firewood.”

Jovan grinned. “Coming right up.”

*

After that, Jovan began sleeping at the blacksmith shop, in addition to spending most of his days there. Elianna disapproved, of course, quietly at first, then loudly, then with huffy silence. In his defense, Jovan _had_ tried to spend time with her, but no matter how he tried, it just didn’t feel right. They couldn’t seem to connect on a personal level –he was doubting, more than ever, that her original story was to be believed – and he wouldn’t have felt comfortable in her house, even if he’d given her the chance to ask.

Merrith, on the other hand, was a terrible liar. He was bad at filtering his words in general, telling anyone and everyone exactly what he thought about everything. Jovan was still having the strange-but-familiar dreams, but they seemed less disconcerting when he was slouched against Merrith’s workbench.

“That thing is going to kill you one of these days,” said Merrith, standing in the back doorway of the shop.

Jovan’s hammock was hung under the roof overhang, where they normally brought the riding animals for shoeing. He slept better there, in the cool night breeze – something about it wasn’t _quite_ right, but almost – where he could hear Merrith snoring inside.

“Nah,” Jovan told him. “It’s comfy.”

“ _Comfy_?” spluttered Merrith, just like he’d hoped. “It’s cold out here at night, even without your so-called bed being a flimsy bit of fabric. I’ve been keeping the forge fire banked the last few days, just so my toes don’t freeze.”

“Well, unless you want me to sleep on the hearth like Cinderella, there’s not much choice. There’s not enough room for two cots.”

Merrith shifted. “We could just share?” he said, as much a question as a suggestion. “I don’t… I hadn’t really been sleeping, before you started coming here. And I’ve been sleeping better since you started staying. Not great, but… better.”

“Me, too,” said Jovan, softly. “I’ve been having these dreams—”

“Yes! I keep dreaming about metal and water and blue…” Merrith trailed off. “They feel more like memories. But there’s nothing like that here.”

“I don’t understand it, either,” said Jovan. The wind picked up, and he saw Merrith shiver. “Hey, buddy, let’s go inside.”

Merrith’s bed was almost too small for both of them, but they seemed to fit easily, navigating the space like they’d done it before. They were asleep almost instantly, and didn’t stir until sunlight began streaming through the window.

*

Jovan continued to dream of the strange place, of gleaming metal and the rhythm of waves, but the details always slipped away the moment he woke. He kept himself busy with chores for the forge, carefully keeping within earshot of Merrith.

Not that Merrith often needed his help directly, but Jovan felt better when the other man was around. Merrith apparently felt the same way, given the number of times he’d called for Jovan, only to fumble for some task he could request Jovan to do.

“Do you think it’s real?” Merrith asked one night. “The place in our dreams?”

“I don’t know,” said Jovan. “I don’t think people usually dream of just one place one like that. Or two people dreaming the same thing. So maybe it’s someplace we’ve both actually been.”

“But then why are we here? I mean, even if I do buy their story of a memory-wiping virus – which sounds very dubious, let me tell you – why aren’t we there, instead of here?”

Jovan pressed his nose to Merrith’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of the blacksmith’s hand against his ribs. “I don’t know, buddy.”

*

The rest of the villagers generally avoided the blacksmith’s shop, unless they had work for Merrith, so Jovan was surprised to look up from the wood he was chopping to see a group of people walking toward them.

He let his axe _thunk_ back into the chopping block and headed inside. Merrith was at the forge, and he looked up, scowling. “Where’s my firewood?”

“We’ve got visitors,” said Jovan. “Strangers.”

“What—” Merrith began, but then there was a knock on the shop door.

It was Elianna, along with Lennet, the baker, and Vannor, who ran the mill. They were leading three other people, two men and a woman, who Jovan didn’t know but who seemed familiar in a way that made him uncomfortable.

“John!” said the woman, and he frowned.

“No… I’m Jovan. And you are?”

She frowned back. “I am Teyla. Do you not remember me, John?”

“No, I don’t,” he said. “Sorry.”

“See?” said Elianna. “As I said. He is Jovan, a resident of our village.”

The woman ignored her. “John, where is Rodney?”

“I don’t know any Rodney,” he said.

“But—”

“What is going on here?” said Merrith, pushing past the half-open front door.

“Merrith,” snapped Jovan, but the woman, Teyla, beamed, “Rodney, it is good to see you well.”

“Who’s Rodney?” the blacksmith demanded. 

The larger of the two men, with the wild hair, snorted. “You are. Rodney McKay and John Sheppard. That’s you.”

“You are our teammates,” continued Teyla. “And our dear friends. We have been searching for you, since the accident.”

“What accident?” said Merrith. “We were ill.”

“No, there was an Ancient device,” said the other man. “Dr. Beckett was worried there might be some damage, that you might be disoriented, but he didn’t know you’d entirely lose your memories.”

“Please, try to remember. I am Teyla Emmagan. This is Ronon Dex and Major Evan Lorne. You are Dr. Rodney McKay and Colonel John Sheppard. Do you not remember anything?”

“They were both very ill,” said Elianna. “Jovan nearly died. He remembers nothing from before Merrith spread the illness to him, and it has completely disrupted our lives.”

“You and him?” asked Ronon. “That’s just wrong.”

“What?” said Jovan.

“You’re married, Sheppard. And not to her.”

“We are intended—” Elianna began, but the baker, Lennet, put a hand om her arm.

“Enough,” he said, softly. “Memories or not, they do not belong here.”

“Then we are those people?” Merrith demanded. “And you _knew_?”

Jovan touched his shoulder and turned back to the strangers. “Does… water mean anything to you? Blue lights and metal walls and the sound of waves?”

Lorne smiled. “Yes, sir. That sounds just like home.”

“Atlantis,” said Merrith. “The city of Atlantis. We found it.”

“Yes, sir,” Lorne repeated. He fumbled in his pockets for something rectangular that fit in the palm of his hand. “Here.”

Jovan took it. The screen dimmed briefly, then flared as his fingers touched it. Small dots appeared, each of them representing one of the people grouped around the door, and Jovan staggered as a lifetime of memories slammed into him.

“Oh, my god,” he gasped, doubling over.

Merrith grabbed his arm, keeping him upright – no, not Merrith, _Rodney_ , Meredith Rodney McKay, who was a scientist and had an allergy to lemons and kept Atlantis running with his pure brilliant stubbornness. And he wasn’t Jovan, he was John, Air Force colonel, military commander of Atlantis. He could feel the warmth of Rodney’s hands, one on his arm and one splayed across his ribs, and he felt like his whole world was pivoting on that fixed point, on the fact that Rodney loved him.

“What?” Rodney demanded. “What happened?”

John shoved the Life Signs Detector at him, and Rodney caught it automatically. His eyes widened, and he gasped, “Oh, my god.”

“The accident,” said John, as his brain realigned itself. “We sent Teyla and Ronon back to the ‘gate, but when we tried to follow, the Ancient device had messed with the DHD, somehow. We ended up here.”

“Sheppard was worse off because of his super-gene,” continued Rodney. “When I brought him to the village, they said they could help. But then she – _she_ did this.”

Vannor, the miller, scowled at her. “We should never have allowed it,” he said. “Our world had suffered greatly due to the Wraith, and Elianna was convinced that without their ties to your people, Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay would be able to help us fight them. Clearly, she was wrong.”

“We would have helped,” said John. “If you’d just asked us. But you kidnapped us, you lied to us.”

“And we realize how wrong that was, colonel,” said Lennet. “But we have lost so many… we were desperate.”

“We do understand,” said Teyla. “But we will need to examine the device used to erase our teammates’ memories.”

“Of course,” Lennet said. “I will show you.”

“Ronon and I will go,” said Lorne. “Teyla?”

She nodded and they left, following Lennet and Vannor. Teyla let them get out of earshot, then snapped, “You will explain.”

Elianna squared her shoulders. “I did what I had to, for my people.”

“You took advantage of injured men for your own gain,” said Teyla. “When Ronon and Major Lorne return with the device, we will leave this world and never come back. And you must live with that consequence.”

“I thought they would be happy here,” said Elianna. “Even in the brief time before… both of them carried such burdens. The machine of the Ancestors was supposed to free them.”

“You cannot free someone from who they are,” Teyla told her, gently. 

“I…” the other woman said. “I _am_ sorry.”

Elianna glanced back at John and Rodney, then left the shop. Teyla watched her for a moment, then said, “Are you both all right?”

“ _No_ ,” said Rodney. “Who knows what could have happened while we were temporarily brain damaged? The Wraith could have attacked, and we’d have had no idea how to fight them. That stupid device could have erased our memories permanently. I could have eaten a lemon and _died_.”

Teyla smiled. “You do sound like yourself, Rodney. But you are unharmed?”

“Yeah, we’re all right,” said John. “Just…”

“I understand.” She reached into a pocket of her vest and brought out a small package. “You do not normally bring these off-world with you, but I thought you might need them now. I will be outside.”

Teyla handed John the packet and left. He opened it slowly, peeling apart the rough-spun fabric to find two simple gold rings. 

“We’re married,” he breathed. He remembered it, remembered the ceremony, but somehow the rings made it seem more real, more immediate. “God, Rodney, I promised you, and I forgot.”

“Hey, hey,” Rodney said, sliding a hand up to his shoulder. “You didn’t. You found me, even when you didn’t know who I was. _That_ I remember clearly.”

“That was just… residual familiarity,” John protested. “Or maybe just because you didn’t claim to remember me. I felt comfortable with you.”

“And you don’t think that’s important?”

“I think it’s circumstantial.”

“And when you got your memory back? How did you feel about me?”

“The same,” admitted John. “I hadn’t… When I got my memories back, that was the one thing that didn’t change. As Jovan, I loved you just the same as I do now.”

Rodney smiled. “Just as emotionally clueless, too,” he said, and picked up one ring from the bundle still in John’s hand. “Would you marry me again?”

John took the ring and slid it back onto Rodney’s finger. “Absolutely.”

When Rodney returned the gesture, he curled his hand around John’s wrist, familiar calluses against his pulse-point, and John immediately pulled him in for a long, deep kiss.

“Hey!” called Ronon’s voice, from outside, when they broke for air. “Let’s go home.”

John smiled and caught Rodney’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Home,” he repeated.

Rodney stole a quick kiss. “Yeah.”

THE END


End file.
